DNA (A Kuroshitsuji fanfiction)
by Keera Tasuma
Summary: (AU) Ciel was born in a laboratory, along with dozens of other children. When his creators try to dispose of him as "defective," Ciel uses the last of his strength to call on a demon. Scarred and filled with hatred for the ones who created and then discarded him, the child forms a contract: for revenge. (There will be yaoi themes later on. Deal or don't read.)
1. Chapter 1

**DNA**

**A Kuroshitsuji fanfiction**

1

I had no name for the first four years of my life. From the time I awoke in the culture tank, until the time I was introduced to others like myself, I was called only by a number, like a product off the assembly line. When a last I stood in a row of other, rather confused, children, our makers likewise stood in front of us, observing the group with dispassionate gazes.

"You have spent the last four years learning basic motor and language skills," announced one, his black shoes clicking in the floor as he paced back and forth in front of us. "Now, at the physical age of seven, you will spend the next few years learning how to interact with others. You will be expected to be able to maintain conversation, perform in a group environment, and make _friends_ with one another." These last words left his lips with a slightly mocking smile, and I felt myself shiver. "To that end," the man continued, "you will be given names. Use these names to address each other from now on."

A second scientist began to walk down the line, naming us as he went. "A-52, Roger. A-53, Alois. A-54…" I tuned him out as a stared around the round, white room. It was always white in this place; white walls, white coats, in the mirror I saw a white face in a white dressing-gown. "A-60." I blinked as the man stopped in front of me. He gave a wide, narrow grin, eyes hidden behind heavy silver bangs. "Ciel."

We had a play-song for our makers. It rang out quietly whenever a child was scolded or, occasionally, taken from the group. We were still too young, too sheltered to know what fear was, but we felt a tight excitement, the feeling of children who knew they mustn't be caught, whenever we hummed the little tune.

_"__Hurry up and hide, the doctor's coming,_

_If he sees you sick, he'll pull you out._

_How many will be left after he gets here?_

_1, 2, 3, 4…"_

It never went past four, as though no one wanted to know our actual number.

Though I sang with the rest of them, in my soft, tuneless voice, I rarely joined in their games. There was something that seemed off about their play in the blank, white space where we lived. It was too featureless, somehow. Too false. And so I would sit in a corner with one of the few books in our play-area, reading them over and over, until I could probably recite most of them word-for-word.

A year after we were named, one of our caretakers pulled me aside. "You need to try harder to get along with your friends," he told me.

As I wandered back towards the rest of the children, I heard his companion murmur, _"He doesn't fit the requirements. Why not pull him out now?"_

_"__His coding is perfect,"_ the first man replied softly. _"Give him some time."_

That night, I lay under the white sheets and listened to the breathing of the children around. _Coding._ What was coding? Why was it perfect? I raised a hand to my chest, feeling the pulse and ebb of my heart. I pictured myself: thin, pale, dark hair and large, blue eyes.

What was, "perfect?"

The hand lowered, and I turned my head to look down the row of sleeping children. There were seventy of us on that first day. Silently I counted, and I felt a creeping feeling of dread.

Forty-five.


	2. Chapter 2

2

**_Two Years Later_**

"Ciel."

I glanced up from my book and frowned. "What is it, Alois?"

The blonde grinned. "Come play with us." He beckoned me towards the group of his friends, happily tossing a ball back and forth. I looked at their wide, identical smiles and shook my head.

"You go ahead."

Alois frowned and started to protest my continued lack of social interaction, but the smooth voice of one of our caretakers interrupted him. "Ciel, might you come with me?"

I peered through my bangs at him, taking in the smile that was faker even than those of my playmates. I set the book aside, feeling the smooth cover leave my fingers with something like regret. "Alright."

Behind me as we left the playroom, I heard the other children start to sing.

"Ciel," the scientist began as we wandered down the whitewashed hallway, "you don't seem to enjoy playing with your friends. Why is that?"

I had learned to lie over the years. _Yes, I was happy. Yes, my life was wonderful. Of course I trusted the doctors._ But for some reason, just then, I didn't lie, though I wished for the rest of my life that I had.

"It doesn't suit me," I said.

The doctor paused. "I see." He sounded disappointed. "Well Ciel, you children are supposed to play. You need to be happy, and lovable. Do you understand?"

"No," I said, because I didn't.

He frowned and ushered me into the lab. It was the same room I went to every week for my checkup, and I sat obediently while he readied the needle for the blood sample. But when I felt the pinch in my arm I looked down, and saw blue liquid going in, not red coming out.

The last thing I thought of before falling into nothingness was this morning's head count.

_Twenty-three._

_It's a shame. This batch seemed perfect, at first._

_Nothing's perfect on the first couple of tries. But we still have almost twenty-five that can be sent through the final stage before shipping next month._

_And these ones?_

A grim chuckle. _Testing. Orders from the higher-ups. We're to try to see if we can figure out why they were defective, so they can fix it next time around._

Even as I slipped out of my darkness, some primal survival instinct led me to keep my eyes closed, and my body still, like a small creature trapped by a predator. And so I heard what happened next, even though I didn't see it.

There was the creak of metal hinges, and a piteous cry of alarm. "Make sure to strap him down firmly," one of the men said.

"Anesthesia?" asked the other.

There was a harsh laugh. "There's not enough in the world for what we're doing. Why do you think we have the earplugs?" There was a pause, and then the child began to scream.

It was a raw, savage sound that set my very soul to burning. Sawing through flesh and bone like the tools I _knew_ they wielded, piercing my ears like white-hot needles. It went on and on, interspersed with the occasional wet gurgle or moan. Around me, I heard others begin to scream and cry, sounds of terror evoked by our comrade's pain. Finally the child let out one last shriek, a cry that tore what was let of my soul to shreds. And then, though my eyes were still closed, my world of white was stained with red.


End file.
